KELLY AND THE SAMARITAN
7/23/95. 2:15am. Home.

Some days just pack it in.

Thanks to the storm and the partial power loss, the 10pm newscast was pretty interesting. No studio lights, no AC, we had no other option but to do the whole show from the newsroom.

But it was the drive home that really capped off the night.

I finally got out around midnight, with the station still not back to full power, and stopped at the Git-n-Go near my apartment to fill up.

As I was filling the tank -- using Super Premium by accident -- a girl came walking, almost running, down the street, around into the parking lot. She came straight to me and asked if her eye was black, or red, or swollen or anything. She was obviously upset... she went over to use the pay phone, after telling me her friend's boyfriend had hit her, after she'd hit him...

As I went in to pay, she got off the phone, gave me more details I hadn't asked for, and asked if I could drive her up to the bowling alley nearby, where her boyfriend would be. The problem: her keys were still in her friend's apartment -- with the friend and the friend's violent boyfriend. I paid for my gas, and we headed for the bowling alley up the street.

We circled the lot so she could look for her boyfriend's car, didn't see it, then she went in for a few minutes to make sure. He and his friends weren't there, so I took her back to the big apartment complex next to the Git-n-Go.

She had other friends nearby, so I dropped her at an apartment and she went in for a while, again asking if I would wait for just another minute. I had nowhere to be, I figured I'd rather stick around and see how this all turns out.

I realized she was either really upset or really trusting, because both times she left the truck she left her purse in there with me. I guess I just have that "harmless" vibe.

She was in the apartment for maybe 15 minutes. I'd parked the truck and shut off the engine by the time she came back out. She was obviously feeling better by this point... she'd called the police, and was getting her keys back. She thanked me for helping, asked me my name -- we hadn't even thought to exchange names -- then we shook hands and that was the end of it.

Now I'm at home enjoying a well-earned beer.

Seriously, do I really look that harmless?